


Cheese Sammies and Soup

by bisexualreina



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Healing, Post Season 2, post baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27353320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualreina/pseuds/bisexualreina
Summary: Just some family fluff.
Relationships: Aimee Gibbs/Steve Morley, Jean Milburn/Jakob Nyman
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Cheese Sammies and Soup

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: mention of Aimee's assault on the bus.

Jean had been shocked at how this one had knocked it out of her. Upon her arrival home from the hospital with Otis she felt full of energy to parade her new baby to friends and family members, opening their house to eager guests who wanted to visit, hold, and chat with both her and her new son. However this go around she felt as if a bus had slammed into her repeatedly, and the hospital simply released her to parent as if everything was as it should be, and she didn’t have a raging monstrosity between her legs, or horrendous vertigo that would nearly knock her down with every step she took.

The simple task of getting up the stairs had been a feat in itself and she had debated whether or not to just set up shop on the sofa, but everyone insisted that she needed her own bed, peace and quiet and the bathroom, essential during this delicate time.

It had taken both Otis and Jakob to get her slowly up the stairs, along with many breaks for her to regroup and check to see if anything had fallen out of what seemed like an empty cavity of her body. They had finally gotten her to the master bedroom where Otis promptly excused himself to allow Jakob to help her into a warm cotton sleep dress, the color a rosy pink that matched about everything in her life now that she bore a little girl, her world seemed brighter and warmer with the radiant color ever since she laid eyes on her Eloise Rose, perhaps inspiring the origins of her name.

She found herself tucking her tender body beneath the warm, flowery duvet that Ola had made up and prepared while she was still residing in the hospital, the young girl and her blonde friend offering their services upon the news that Jakob would have to return to work following the baby’s arrival, only able to help with night changings and nurturings. Jean had been wary, unsure if it would be appropriate to have the older ones taking on such a responsibility, but in the end Ola assured her that they would just simply stop by after school, and that she was more than eager to do it, eventually convincing her, after realizing she would take any help she could get.

Moving from her spot had become a tiresome chore, unless the bathroom beckoned, she was content being enveloped in her bed with her little rosebud either in her lap or the cot that sat beside her side of the bed. She found herself enjoying the little need for getting dolled up for clients, publisher meetings, or simply venturing out to the public eye, enjoying the way her body felt after warm showers, pajamas long into the afternoon, and her long hair void of any product to style or part it, allowing it to simply coil loosely at her shoulder blades.

She slowly began to accept visitors, realizing that with Otis gone on a class trip for the school holiday, and Jakob on rounds just days following Eloise’s arrival, she found herself worrying at the thought of venturing those stairs with no assistance, and even scarier, with a very breakable newborn.

Ola popped in on those days without being asked, happily assisting in any manner- changing diapers, grabbing water, making ice packs or simply sitting to chat when the house would fall silent, and Jean felt a little more lonely than usual. Ola noticed Jean’s hesitation to ask for anything particularly for herself, her mind always focused on fresh burp cloths, melted rubber gloves that were once frozen and wedged between the sore spots between her thighs, and much more, but simple things like snacks, water, and rest were always secondary thoughts.

Eventually she began disregarding her assurances that she was “perfectly fine” and would whip up different things for her, balancing the tray as she ventured up the stairs, setting it on the spongy mattress, a reachable distance for her to gather while rocking or feeding the needy newborn.

She had noticed that her soups seemed to take the cake for Jean, she always scarfed them down in record breaking time, so she began preparing them with whatever sandwich ingredients she could find, and regardless of their contents Jean always finished them.

When the days felt long and the baby would refuse to quit, her lungs never giving out as she wailed over ever inconvenience in her days long life, one of them would inevitably pop in with a tray of food and eager arms. Initially Jean had felt reluctant and guilty for passing her screaming baby off to teenagers, but Ola always silently but eagerly took her and wandered out of the room and down the hall, giving Jean some peace with her soup and sandwich.

As the days passed her ventures to the bathroom became a bit easier, and her showers felt longer as her legs shuddered less from holding her sore bits up for such a long time, but she still feared the stairs, not wanting to run before she was sure she could walk. So she still confined herself to the comfort of her bed, figuring she wouldn’t get another chance to just rest with some extra help.

However when Ola found herself sick with a cold and not wanting to put either Jean or the baby at risk, she found herself faced with a perky blonde girl standing in the entrance of her bedroom, her shirt bright with red, green, and yellow stripes and a clean denim jacket. She too clutched a tray with a toasted cheese sandwich, extremely burnt on each side, worrying her that the kitchen could’ve been burnt without her knowledge, and a bowl of cold tomato soup that she most likely just poured from the can.

She introduced herself as Aimee and settled the tray directly on Jean’s lap, her mouth curving into a grin as she caught a glimpse of the now sleeping baby that Jean had perched on her shoulder. She seemed harmless, taking in the scenery of the bedroom, not uncomfortable in the slightest, explaining that she had spoken with Jean in passing and would often come with Ola when she made her trips over, but waited respectfully downstairs during the first few days.

Jean didn’t know whether or not to be alarmed or touched at the sentiment, but she came bearing meals and company, another mind to chat with while the baby fed or napped, times that were normally quite boring for Jean while everyone was out.

“Would it be alright if I looked at her? She seems cute from her outfit.” Aimee had requested on one of her days that Ola was out with her cold, Jean now shrugging as she flipped the tiny baby to face the teenager who just squealed in delight, waving warmly at her to see if she’d have a reaction to her eagerness. Jean just chuckled and carefully set Eloise into Aimee’s arms, adjusting her head until she was comfortably placed, watching the girl entertain the baby long enough for her to at least scarf down her disgustingly burnt sandwich.

“She doesn’t look like Otis, are you his actual mom?” Aimee asked while staring intently at the baby’s puckering lips, waving her fingers above her eye line, making Jean raise her eyebrow at her and nod. She was blunt and kept her head in the clouds, but there never seemed to be harm done by her warm view on life, silently hoping that her daughter caught some of that lighthearted nature.

“I love your robes, I saw some of them downstairs when I would come with Ola and I have looked everywhere for them, but I can’t find them!” She exclaimed, her eyes still on the baby who was now sticking her tongue out at her, keeping the conversation light enough to carry through her meal.

Jean paused for a moment, unable to recall where she had purchased the silk kimonos, the longer ones coming to her as a gift from Maureen who had eagerly welcomed this new chapter in her life. Aimee tilted her head before pulling her glance away from the now sleeping newborn, rendering Jean silent at how fast she had gotten her to nap. It took countless tries, feedings, rocking, and shushing to get her to finally sleep, but as the young girl babbled on she watched as she slept soundly.

Jean felt tears of frustration build in her eyes as she stared at the little one, unsure as to why she refused to sleep with the patient woman who had given her the quite tiresome gift of life, but eagerly passed out with her son’s little friend.

She willed the tears back, refusing to lose her composure in front of this well mannered young lady, but she felt her hormones refusing to cooperate, sending the tears out of the floodgates, making Aimee jump.

“Oi, why are you crying?” She asked softly, carefully rising to her feet to go and fetch a tissue from the dresser, handing it over mildly while she waited for a response, still rocking the sleepy baby. Jean just waved her back to assure her that everything was fine, now completely annoyed with herself for suddenly losing her composure over something so miniscule.

“The baby is sleeping.” She revealed, but Aimee just stared in confusion before taking breath.

“I can wake her up if you miss her that much?” She offered kindly, but Jean hastily declined, although frustrated, she’d take a sleeping baby over a screaming one any day.

“She just won’t sleep when I try and put her down.” She admitted, making Aimee shrug and smile back at the sleeping bean in her arms, playing with her flowery pink outfit that had been selected for her for the day, along with the warm cap that was pulled onto her head.

“I’m sorry.” She frowned, but Jean just waved her hand and realized what her body language was giving off, that she was somehow upset with the smiley girl who had stopped by to help.

“No, oh gosh it’s not your fault. Why don’t you go spend time with your friends, Ola tells me you have quite the handsome boyfriend.” Jean cried, taking her baby back to relieve her of her duties, curling her legs beneath the covers to help sit up a bit straighter. The mention of her boyfriend made Aimee perk up and scoot a bit closer, a grin forming on her lips as she thought about this so called _Steve_ that Jean had been hearing about.

“He’s _so_ nice, Mrs. Milburn…” She began, the title making Jean wince and squint an eye in her direction.

“Just call me Jean.”

“He’s so nice, Jean! I got the stomach flu a month ago and he sat with me and held my rubbish bin while I threw up into it. I think we’re going to get married!” She cried happily, but her excitement was short lived as Jean watched another thought pop into her head, causing her to break eye contact and stare down at her pink nail polish, anxiously picking at the corners.

“But…” Jean questioned, the probing tone making Aimee glance over nervously and reach down towards the knee of her jeans, scratching at the spot.

“A while ago a stranger…jizzed on my jeans on the bus…” She revealed, her big eyes clouding over as she continued to scratch at the blue denim, the tone of the conversation shifting, making Jean bite her lip and carefully place Eloise into her cot.

“I see.” She managed, the young girl biting her lip as she mustered up the energy to continue.

“Steve and I took a break because being around men made me feel funny, and now we are back together and he said that he doesn’t want to have sex with me until I’m ready, but how do I know? What if I’m never ready?” She cried nervously, making Jean study her mannerisms, the way she scratched at the leg of her pants, her wild eyes.

“Sweetie, have you told anyone besides your friend about this?” Jean asked calmly, her tone taking on it’s even beat as it normally did when talking with the students of Mooredale.

“No, I went to the police but they haven’t found the man. But my mom would just worry…” She tapered off, clearly not comfortable discussing this with someone so emotionally invested such as her mother. Jean just pursed her lips and startled at the sound of the baby mewling in her cot, mindlessly moving her hand to rest on her tummy to try and settle her.

“Well, if you still feel funny around your boyfriend, just do what you are comfortable with. If you just want to hold hands with him for the time being then just do that. But maybe talking to someone professional about this regularly might help you.” Jean pointed out, now it being her turn to stretch her legs and climb out of bed to grab her a tissue, sinking beside her on the edge of the mattress.

“To someone like you?” Aimee questioned, recalling her presence in the old history classroom where students lined through the halls to speak with the infamous sex lady who would guide them through their sexual worries, free of charge.

“Yes, to someone like me. We can help you with some of this, aftermath that you may be dealing with.” Jean suggested carefully, watching the girl shift nervously at the thought of talking about this moment and reliving it with someone again.

“Can I just talk to you? I like talking with you and I can come and help out too.” She asked carefully, her words somehow flattering Jean for a moment, making a smile creep onto her face as she nodded at the young girl.

“That’s fine.” Gasping sharply as Aimee reached over to hug her, the action slightly jarring to her as she carefully hugged her back, pulling away. 

“Well, I should go, I have some homework and a night with Steve.” She smiled, gathering her items that she had brought upstairs, along with the bowl and plate.

“Goodbye Mrs. Jean, goodbye little baby.” She smiled before trotting off and down the stairs, her face now beaming as she slowly rose to her feet, stretching out the muscles that felt tight from sleep, sliding her feet into the slippers that protected them from the draft.

Her body still felt tired, heavy, and sore, but it felt good to get a good stretch in before steadying herself beside the cot where the baby slept, her green pacifier keeping her content and silent. 

“You have so many people so excited to meet you.” Jean found herself whispering before climbing back into her warm cocoon, sinking down so she could lay on her side and stare at the little being that would occasionally twitch or flinch in her sleep, reaching her hand over to grip her little one.

Before she could nod off, the sound of heavy footsteps at the door had her turning to find the tall, Swedish plumber freshly showered and changed out of his grimy uniform that he ended the day with.

She relaxed at his presence and silently lifted the covers, urging him to climb under, the sun now barely lowering in the sky over the tired parents. He eagerly joined her and pulled her back closely against him, a hand draped against her tender middle, a habit he had picked up when their daughter still resided there.

She was warm and inviting, her body limp and tired from her constant attentiveness towards their baby while he was gone, the reminder causing him to press a soft kiss into the base of her neck.

“How was your day? Do you want a bath or something like that?” He offered, but she shook her head and leaned back, not wanting to be away from his inviting grip.

“It was fine, your daughter has set up quite the system to make sure I get my hour break, and now I have little visitors who come and chat with me.” She smirked, her comment genuine despite her playful expression.

“And I’m fine, I’ve had enough alone time today.” She breathed, slowly pulling their baby out of the cot to hand over to him, settling beside him as he carefully took their tiny one into his hands, softly muttering to her in his thick accent, the sight warming Jean as she relished in what she had, resting her head on his arm.

Although she found it cute that Ola and Otis had taken on such an active role in helping out, she thanked her lucky stars that it had worked out in such a manner. Thinking back to what her relationships had been like just a year prior, it seemed as if this would never be something positive for the Milburn family.

However, she looked on at her partner whispering sweet words of love to their child, the way he looked at her with pure love and admiration, how her son awkwardly but eagerly held his sister and showed her off to his friends with photos and anecdotes, and how Ola put her love into action in the past following days.

She was overwhelmed with it and just snuggled farther into bed. Despite being sore and achey, she felt an overwhelming sense of content with their little life.


End file.
